Blackfriars Bridge
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: There's a bridge in London called Blackfriars; that's where the "resurrectionists" do their business. AU where Dean is a body snatcher in the 1700s. Please review!


Blackfriars Bridge

A/N Inspired by the song "The Resurrectionist" where, incidentally, was the song that inspired my pen name. This took a lot of research to get this historically correct, so if I'm wrong, please PM me(It's really helpful!) Also, please let me know what you think!

Blackfriars bridge, located by two of the largest hospitals in Britain, was a grave robber's heaven. Under cloak of darkness, deals were made and things were taken. People all over the city came to life as the night fell, and barely stopped till it was morning, and the sun began to peek over the tops of the old buildings.

It was another warm night; breeze soft on Dean Winchester's face as he made his way to the bridge.

He was here to meet another team, another body and another bag of coins. In his mind, it was just another night, and therefore just another body.

He could imagine his little sister and mother curled up at home, warm for now. He worried that this winter would be as bitter as the last, and there was nothing Dean wanted to see less than Rhiannon and his mother pressed near the dying fire, bodies thin and corpse like.

No, that was the last thing Dean desired, and he worked every night to make sure it never happened again. He hoped it wouldn't, but London winters were unpredictable, and the people even more so.

His boots clacked softly against the cobblestone as he strode slowly to the edge of the bridge.

No one was silly enough to stand in the middle of the bridge at this time of night. Policemen knew what they did, called them "Resurrectionists" but for the most part ignored them.

It didn't mean Dean couldn't be stealthy. And in his profession, that was a given.

The clock was striking midnight, and Dean took a deep breath of the summer air. It was time. Speak of the devil, two pairs of boots cold be heard approaching. Dean turned to greet them, hand going to the pistol hidden by his back.

In the words of his father, you could never be too prepared. The irony of that statement hit years later when John was taken to prison and never seen again, but that was another story meant for another time. Besides, he was the man of the family now, had been for too many years.

"You Winchester?" one of them growled, mostly bald and slightly plump. He had a rough face, one that was used to working the reeking streets with an evil smile on his face. Dean instantly distrusted him, even if he was working with him tonight. This man wasn't a friend.

Dean usually paired up with random teams all over the district, never settling down with just one. Not that many hadn't asked him, citing his talents in conning and physical stamina.

In layman's terms, Dean was the perfect man for the job. Didn't mean he had to like it.

The other man was shorter than the other, pasty skin and washed out blonde hair his only present features. To Dean, he just looked tired.

There was no time for tired in this business. You got up late, worked late and slept late. Dean had lost weight his first few weeks working as a body-snatcher, eyes almost perpetually red. His mother had gone off on him for hours after a month of this, screaming at him to take care of himself until he'd yelled back.

I don't know why you think this is the answer, Dean! You're coming home every morning nearly drunk to death! Don't you care about us?

He'd shouted back, finally screaming at his mother.

_It's not liquor, mother! It's for the money! For you and Rhiannon! You think I wouldn't CARE?_

She'd paled then, hands going to her torn nightgown, torn by age and overuse. At that moment, Dean knew she understood. That he was doing this for them. That it had always been about them.

She'd taken a few steps back, falling into an old chair as she took fast, almost panicked breaths.

Her face turned up at his, old and yet so childish at the same time, and Dean recognized that he was in charge now. This was his problem.

_Promise me you'll stay safe._ She'd finally said, touching his face gently.

He'd nodded, and clasped her arm in his as he pulled her into her bedroom. She sank into her bed gratefully, and he'd tucked her in before returning to the night.

All of this was on his mind as he saw the new snatcher, and he managed to will it away.

"I'm Winchester." He said, acknowledging the two men with a nod. "Where are we going tonight?"

"Guys was low on bodies last we checked 'em." Said the first man, mentioning the large hospital just over the river. "I think we'll hit the new gravesites up by Crossbones tonight. Fitting, the place was 'sanctioned'" he spit the word out. "By the Bishop of Winchester. Any relation there, boyo?"

Dean growled at the man, baring his teeth. The other man cowered back a little, but soon turned so they were walking over the Thames.

"This isn't a good night." The young man with the blonde hair said suddenly, voice still that of a boy's.

"And why would that be?" Dean asked once the leader had disappeared.

"I don't know, sir." The boy said. "But the river does."

He looked down at the dark river, swirling and smelling terrible like always.

"I don't get what you mean." Dean said.

"You'll see." He said, running after the taller man.

Dean followed, heart thumping.

Was tonight the night everything was going to go wrong?

A/N More chapters? Let me know! J


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